Back in the Game
by airwolf addict
Summary: Story twelve. When a mission goes badly, Mike returns for backup, but only one person is available and he might not be up to it...
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Dom grunted as he worked on the Jet Ranger. It was just normal routine maintenance, but the stubborn helicopter wasn't being very helpful.

Thinking over the last two years, he realized just how much had changed. Saint John had been rescued and returned to the United States, even if String and he hadn't been able to rescue him themselves. Saint John understood. It wasn't like they didn't try, and being half dead, probably more than half dead, in the hospital was a valid excuse. Things with Caitlin and String had also progressed well. Their relationship had been further along than anyone else had imagined, and now they had their own baby boy. Actually, that's where they were now, at the cabin with that cute little munchkin. Tomorrow, String had promised he would get back to work at the hangar, but he could understand String hesitancy in leaving them. Life hadn't treated him very well in the past, and he always got antsy every time things started going too well. Dom would dare say he'd had his fair share of problems lately. String had mostly recovered from his last mission nine months ago. In the end, they had all thought he was dead for three months before he showed up on the doorstep. Even then, he hadn't been flying again until recently. He had been forced to take over in Airwolf, while she was acting up, nonetheless, and Caitlin had gone into labor a little early. Now he was flying the Jet Ranger again and obviously could pilot Airwolf, although maybe not in combat. His injuries, as severe as the were, had been healing rather well, all things considered; his limp was mostly gone except for when he was tired, and the burns had healed with minimal scarring. Even the numbness that had plagued him from nerve damage due to the second and third degree burns was almost completely gone.

Dom climbed down the ladder and let out a long sigh. He needed a vacation. Airwolf was having some engine trouble, and he still needed to stick around the hangar. String was flying again, but that didn't mean he was ready to do the stunts, and Caitlin was taking some time off to spend with the baby.

\A/

String laid back on the sofa with his newborn son in his lap.

Chance looked up at him with irresistible round eyes the same distinctive shade of blue as his father's. He took a firm grasp on String's finger and refused to let go.

"Hey you," he smiled fondly, "I see you finally decided to wake up."

The little baby gurgled happily in response.

He still worried a little about the slight lack of feeling in his hands and arms, afraid he would drop the baby that was already so precious to him, but Caitlin had insisted he would be fine, and to enjoy the time while he was still small.

String shifted the weight slightly and stood up. Carefully, he set Chance down into his playpen while he went to warm a bottle.

\A/

(The next morning)

Dom stretched, trying to ease the tension in his sore back. Spending hours leaning over helicopters from the top of the ladder hadn't made his back feel real great and today was going to be no better. After work at the hangar, they planned to work on the Lady so, if anything, he'd probably hurt worse by the end of the day.

Saint John walked into the hangar soon followed by his younger brother.

"Dom," String said bluntly noticing the stiffness in his movements, "you look like crap."

"Gee thanks, you sure know how to make a guy feel better," he tried to shrug it of, but he knew String was right.

Saint John wasn't much more tactful. "You should go home and get some rest or better yet take a vacation."

Dom looked back at him. "I can't; I'm needed here."

"Dom, we'll be alright for awhile," String disagreed. "Saint John's got the flying stunts thing pretty well, and I can fly again. Everett's coming all next week, and the schedule's not that full. You could use the vacation. Go."

Together, they finally convinced Dom. He decided to take a week of to go back to Italy. "You're sure everything'll be alright?" Dom asked. "Oh wait. I never got a chance to take a look at the Lady."

"Dom," String assured, "It'll be fine. Now go have some fun."

Dom stayed at the hangar insisting he should finish whatever work he could before he left. After all, it would only take a couple minutes to get down to the other end of the airport.

At three thirty, Dom gathered his bags and put them into the back of the jeep. String took the driver's seat as Dominic climbed into the passenger side.

\A/

Saint John was already waiting upon his brother's return. "You wanna go ahead and take a look at Airwolf?"

"Yeah. It would be nice if it didn't stall every time we got off the ground."

They loaded into the jeep and started off for the Lair.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

String finished the call to Michael. Turning his attention back to Saint John, he said, "Michael said that he would have the necessary part for us by tomorrow afternoon."

"Ok. We can take care of it right after business at the hangar."

"Sounds good."

Saint John dropped String off back at the hangar then drove to his own home.

String took the Jet Ranger back up to the cabin. It was late by the time the cabin came into view, and darkness had long since set in. Caitlin was standing outside to greet him when he landed. He greeted her with a kiss. "Everything ok here?"

She nodded in response. "How about you? How was your day?" Caitlin asked. "From what I can tell from the looks of you, it was tiring."

"Yeah," he agreed, "We kind of sent Dom off; he needed a vacation, so right now he's on his way to Italy for the week."

"Italy? You want me to come in and help with Dom being out?" she offered.

"Nah, it's ok. Saint John and I can handle it."

"Just tell me if you change your mind."

"Oh, before I forget, tomorrow don't wait dinner on me; I'll probably be late again."

"Why? Is everything alright?"

"Sinj and I were gonna work on the Lady a bit. You remember the engine stalling problem."

"How could I forget?" She didn't love the idea of dining alone again, and she'd probably be asleep long before he even got back if he was going to work on the Lady all night, but it didn't look like she had much choice.

"One more thing, I know you're already doing a lot, but would you mind watching Le for Saint John too?"

"No problem," she answered. In truth she wouldn't mind the extra company.

\A/

After business at Santini Air, they took the Jet Ranger over to Knightsbridge to pick up the parts from Michael then out to the Valley. The hot desert transformed into a remarkably cold desolate land.

"I'm glad I don't have to spend many nights out here," Saint John remarked.

"At least it's not so hot like those jungles back in Nam."

Nam? What did that have to do with anything? Saint John thought he'd gotten the short end of the stick being stuck in that hellhole for sixteen years, but now his nightmare was over; it seemed his brother's would never end, even now that everything was going well. "String, Vietnam was years ago. What does it have to do with anything?"

"Nothing," he refocused on the task at hand. "I was just thinking."

\A/

Saint John rolled over and almost fell out of the bed. They'd been late coming back from the Valley, and he didn't even consciously remember climbing into bed, but here he was.

He moaned, looking up at the clock. It was already eight thirty and he needed to get to the hangar. Summoning the little bit of energy he had gathered from the few hours of sleep, he shuffled into the bathroom for a nice hot shower. Afterwards, he grabbed a cup of coffee. At least it was something for breakfast.

Michael greeted him as soon as he pulled into the parking lot. 'What could he want this early?'

"I have a mission for you," he said without preamble.

"Why does that not surprise me?"

Michael ignored the remark and continued, " A Vietnamese prison camp with ten, maybe more, prisoners has been located near the border."

"So you want me to break em out," he supplied. "Sounds easy enough, which means there's a catch. What is it?" He definitely could identify with the prisoners and would do what he could to help, but there was something more; he just knew it.

"No real catch. I'll have a pickup ready a mile out. Break them out, leave them at the pickup, and come back home; I'll take care of the rest."

If at all possible, he didn't want to half to close the business, but he wanted to help the prisoners. It would be short handed, but String and Everett could handle it for a few days if it came down to it. String would understand.

"Alright, I'll do it. Contact Mike and have him wait for me outside the city."

Michael nodded and returned to his immaculately clean white helicopter. Marella piloting, he watched as Michael connected a call on the radio while settling into his seat.

Saint John walked back to the side door and went to unlock it. It was already unlocked. He carefully peered inside. Everything seemed to be in order; String walked out of the office.

String. "When did you come in? I never heard the Jet Ranger."

"Same time Michael was leaving. Does this mean I'm on my own?" he asked, still disappointed he couldn't fly Airwolf like before.

"I guess so," he could sympathize with String, but nothing he could do would change the facts.

"I'll take care of things here. Just try to come back in one piece."

"I'll try," he promised and turned to leave.

\A/

The day dragged on, but eventually it drew to a close. String climbed out of the helicopter and walked inside.

"Le's going to be staying with us for a couple days. Saint John went on a mission for Michael," he answered Le's unspoken question when Saint John didn't follow him in.

Caitlin could sense the sadness in his mood, although totally hidden in his actions.

"How have things been around here?"

"Oh, you know, the the usual," Caitlin answered. She liked the cabin, but she hadn't left it in a week and was starting to need a change of scenery. "With Saint John gone too, you'll need some help at the hangar won't you?"

"Nah. Everett and I can handle it. Besides, it's only for a couple days."

"Oh, ok. If you change your mind just tell me." Actually that wasn't the answer she'd been wanting at all.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

After picking up Mike, Saint John flew toward the all too well known jungles of Vietnam.

"Where's your brother this time?" Mike asked.

"He's out of the Airwolf missions, can't do the combat flying after his last mission," Saint John replied.

"Oh yeah, he told me about that when he went looking for Caitlin."

Saint John looked over at the other man, "and now I know who it was that told him where we were."

"Not me," Rivers denied it. "Michael told him. I guess that means Caitlin flew home then," Mike reasoned. "It must be hard not being able to fly this baby anymore."

"I said he couldn't fly combat," Saint John corrected. "Coming back was interesting to say the least. Caitlin was flying back, at first, but then…"

\A/

'Time was running out. He had just enough to get off one shot before he was caught, if he hurried. Too many were coming to kill them all, three were already on Saint John, and only one shot to be fired.

"String!" Saint John yelled, "Do it. I can't go through that hellhole, not again."

His fingers tightened his grip in the gun. It wasn't fair, but no one deserved to go through that pain and torture, especially after they'd already done it once. Considering how tightly he held onto the gun, one would think he was fighting against the whole world for it, yet no one was on him, not yet anyways. They were gaining, only seconds remaining before he would have no chance to change anything, to end his brother's misery, or to kill one of their seemingly ever growing number of enemies. About to pull the trigger, to end his brother's life as he was pleaded to do, time seemed to stop.

"Do it String!" Saint John pleaded helplessly. "Just pull the trigger."

The gun fell to the ground then he was pulled away. "I'm sorry, Sinj, I just couldn't do it," he whispered, "but I'll get you out, I don't know how, but I will; I swear I will, no matter what it costs."

The swarthy man muscled Saint John back into the deep shadows of the jungle.'

His breathing came in harsh short gasps.

"Hawke," Caitlin shook him gently, "Hawke, wake up."

He opened bleary eyes, still half asleep. "Saint John"

"It's Cait." She gently stroked his dark auburn hair gently, "Everything's going to be alright."

He suddenly remembered what had happened. Focusing on his real surroundings, he let go of the awful nightmare. He got up to fix himself a drink. Caitlin followed.

"Nightmare?"

"Yeah."

She knew when he didn't offer any further explanations like that she wasn't likely to learn any lore no matter how hard she pushed, so she let it go.

"You wanna get back to bed? I know you have to get an early start, but we could still fit in another hour or two of sleep."

He shook his head. "You go ahead. I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway."

When Caitlin woke again, it was just after six thirty. She planned on insisting on helping out at the hangar, especially since he was more likely to be tired, but she soon found that he had already left.

Le awoke to the pleasant aroma of eggs and bacon being cooked in the kitchen. He stumbled in and took a seat at the table. "Morning Cait. Smells good."

"Here you go," she said putting a plate of food down in front of him. Soon she sat down to join him, trying to finish breakfast before Chance woke up.

\A/

"Ok, we can land in this clearing here," Mike suggested, "come in under the cover of the trees all the way to the fence."

"We can drop in from this tree here," Saint John added, making a visual mark on their sketch of the prison camps grounds. "All we have to do then is take out the guards here and here, rescue the prisoners, and get out."

"Sounds good," Mike gave his approval. "We should start this afternoon, before it gets too dark sine we don't know the area."

Saint John landed in the clearing a mile away from the camp. After informing Michael's extraction team of their location and estimated return time, they set off; they carefully picked their way through the tangle of trees, vines, and overgrown bushes. Upon their arrival nearer the site, each made an extra effort to stay out of sight.

Saint John was the first to cross the shallow river only fifty yards from the fenced parameter. He cautiously climbed a tree that hung over the barbed wire topped eight foot fence. He dropped down and hit the ground with an almost silent thump. The noise wasn't much, but it was enough to arouse one of the two guard dogs.

'Dammit,' he mentally cursed. They hadn't seen the dogs earlier. "Mike," he said barely above a whisper, "don't come…" it was too late. Mike landed on the dirt ground beside him.

"What'd you say?"

"We've got dogs," Saint John answered bluntly.

Mike knocked out the oblivious guard who happened to be nearing them. "Let's get these guys and get outta here then. No time to party tonight."

The door to the prisoner's quarters was directly in front of a window in the guard's barracks. "Any other way to get in?" Saint John asked.

"None that I can see," Rivers answered. "There is a window, but it's barred."

The keys to the door were hung just out of reach of the prisoners of the concrete block comprised prison. Saint John grabbed the key and thrust it into the old fashioned lock. After tugging on it for a minute, the prison door swung open with a loud creak.

"Follow me," Mike instructed. Saint John took up the rear.

The guard dog noticed the sudden activity and decided to take a closer look. The Doberman gave a low growl followed up by a vicious snarl.

The Airwolf crew and the captives both tried to ignore the threats and continue focusing on getting out, but the dog blocked their path.

"On the count of three, get through those gates and run straight through past the river until you reach the Huey waiting to take you all home," Mike ordered, "don't stop not matter what happens. One, two, three!" With a sharp kick, he temporarily removed the dog from their path as Saint John shot the lock.

The gunshot alerted the two off duty guards as well as the one conscious on duty one. With guns drawn, they charged after the fleeing prisoners.

The dog bit at Mike savagely, tearing a piece of flesh off, but they continued on. Saint John and the last prisoners were just escaping when the guards caught up.

"Go on!" Saint John yelled above the chaotic noise of soldiers and escapees, as they pulled him and two others back.

At the Huey, two camouflage clothed pilots waited next to the olive drab colored Huey for their passengers. Mike finally led them in, making sure each made it to the Huey before takeoff, then found his own way back to Airwolf. He took advantage of the first aid kit in the back before starting his flight back home.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

String let out a long sigh. His brother got all the fun now; he just wasn't a combat pilot anymore, and he had to face the music. He wouldn't be needed for Airwolf missions unless he could fly like before, and putting other people's lives at stake just wasn't worth trying to beat the odds, and he already knew he wasn't as good as before without jeopardizing anyone's life. "Everyone gets their fifteen minutes of fame, I guess mine are over." Things were different. He had a family, a reason to care. Not too long ago, his only goal in life had been to find his brother, but more had come to life. Cait, Chance, Le, and finally Saint John were added to his family.

He stepped outside and readied the Jet Ranger for takeoff. He was off to Knightsbridge to officially resign from his position as head pilot for Airwolf. Michael would, undoubtedly, be surprised; no one had every informed him of the full extent of String's injuries, but he wouldn't be flying anymore missions, and Michael deserved to know.

\A/

Michael walked down the hallway toward his office. He greeted his assistant Marella and reached for the door.

"Sir," Marella addressed him, "there's someone here to see you."

He wasn't expecting anyone this morning, at least not this early. "Who?"

"Stringfellow Hawke, sir," she replied without missing a beat."

"Bring us some coffee and send him in, please."

"Yes, sir," she answered efficiently.

Michael sat down in his white leather chair just as Hawke came in.

Emotionless, he walked across the spacious office and stopped to lean against an expensive piece of computer hardware. His arms crossed and choice to mask all emotions, the only visible signs of unrest.

"Hawke," Michael greeted, "What brings you here this morning?"

"I've come to resign my position in the Airwolf project."

Michael's jaw dropped. "You're what?"

Marella came in bringing their coffees. She paused momentarily. "Sorry if I'm interrupting anything, but I'm supposed to inform you of the return of your extraction team and eight captives."

"And Airwolf," Michael supplied the seemingly obvious.

"Actually," Marella reported, "there have been no signs of Airwolf."

A banshee shriek cutting through the air before reaching the helipad outside changed her message.

"Until now."

Only a minute later, Major Mike Rivers came through the doors, still clothed in a grey Airwolf flight suit. "Michael, I need a fuel pickup for Airwolf and some backup."

Michael took a moment to work through the latest requests. "Backup for what?"

"I'm going back," Rivers answered immediately.

"Why?" Hawke asked joining the conversation. Under normal circumstances Vietnam wouldn't be his first choice to go back to, but maybe he personally had just had enough during his three tours of duty.

"Saint John," he answered. "Two of the prisoners and he are still over there. We had a little trouble getting out."

'Saint John is in a Vietnamese prison camp.' It was like replaying the previous years of his life. His dream came suddenly back to him; he couldn't let it come to that. Before he hadn't been able to rescue his brother because he was in the hospital, now his excuse was he'd lost the finesse necessary in combat flying, but someone had to go with Mike, and Saint John was **not** going to stay in that prison camp any longer than necessary.

He made a visible change as his guarded expression became more readable but with nothing but determination. He looked as if not even a speeding semi running over him would stop him.

"I'll go," he volunteered.

Michael looked at the younger pilot questioningly. A minute ago he was quitting, now he was jumping back into the game head first.

Without a second thought, Hawke left Michael's office and walked with Mike out to Airwolf. Within minutes, he was also changed into the grey uniform, previously stored in the back of Airwolf.

Mike was first inside Airwolf, automatically taking his seat as co-pilot/weapon's engineer. Obviously String was serious about bring Saint John back and he wasn't going to stand in the way. String took his place as pilot and started off for the Vietnamese jungles.

Mike tried to make conversation. "How've thing been going? I heard you weren't flying combat anymore and you'd settled down with a family.'

"That was the plan."

"Why?"

"I was told after the incident, I would never fly again, and it probably would've been true without Caitlin. She helped me through it, believed in me when I didn't believe in myself, but combat still wasn't really in the cards."

"What changed your mind?" Mike asked.

"Saint John. And I never said I was doing the combat part anyway."

"You know, for brothers that are so close, you two don't seem to be doing many missions together lately, except to bail each other's bacon out."

"I guess that's the way it's always been. Even back in Nam when we were in the same unit he was dragging me out of trouble; after he was shot down and captured, I took it upon myself to do the same for him."

Mike looked back at him. "Back in Nam you say? Aren't you a little young to have served in Vietnam as long as you supposedly did?"

"I went early," String explained.

"Oh. I missed all the action cause my folks wouldn't sign off to let me go early."

String almost grinned. "Mine wouldn't either."

Mike gave a look of confusion. "What do you mean they wouldn't either?"

"My parents are dead; they have been since I was twelve. Dominic was our legal guardian. Saint John tried to lie about the age, but he got caught. Finally he made it out there though. I bribed some drunk to sign my papers."

"Sneaky," Mike commented. "I didn't have that opportunity and my folks made me finish college first."

He let his gaze fall to the screen in front of him-still another hour of travel. He went to question String further, but no such luck.

"Why won't you tell me anything else?" he pushed.

"I've done more explaining in the last few minutes than I've done in years, you should be happy with that and leave me alone."

"You always this friendly?"

"Hawke sent him an icy glare. "Only when I'm in a good mood."

They spent most of the rest of the trip in silence. Mike was the first to break it. "The clearing's a mile out, right in the middle of all those trees.

String landed with a slight thump in almost the exact same spot Airwolf had been landed before. Mike handed him the sketch of the previous attempt's ground plans.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

String piloted Airwolf past the prison camp at a low altitude then came back around.

"What was that for?" Mike asked.

"To let them know we're here."

Mike didn't understand. "Obviously, you and I think a little differently. Last time we focused on not letting them know we were there."

"That worked real well for you too, didn't it?"

"Hey, everything should have turned out fine."

"Yeah," String allowed, "it should have, but you all had a mile long hike, and you didn't know what kind of condition the prisoners were in; they could have very likely been in bad enough condition that they wouldn't have made it anyway. Back to letting them know we're here, it's not to let the guards know, although they'll know too, it's to let Saint John know. He'll recognize the sound and be ready when we land."

After making a big loop, String asked for matrix scans.

"They're all against the right wall in the first building," Mike reported.

"Bring up a small canon."

Mike loaded it. "Ready."

With a single shot, he took out a big chunk of the wall. "Chain guns."

With the simple touch of a button, the chain guns slid out. "They're ready."

String laid down a line of fire, warning off any brave soldiers, as he landed.

Saint John and the two prisoners climbed into the back.

"Let's get out of here."

\A/

Caitlin picked up the phone at the hangar. She'd radioed in earlier and gotten no response which worried her. She tried again several times later but still no answer. In the end, she took Le and Chance in the Jet Ranger left at the cabin up to Santini Air.

The phne rang. Michael was on the other end. "I just thought I'd warn you that Hawke won't be back until at least five or six tomorrow morning." Michael told her.

"Why?"

"He and Mike set off a few hours ago for Vietnam to rescue Saint John and two other captives from Saint John and Mike's raid." Michael finished explaining all the details.

"He told me his mission days were over," Caitlin returned.

"That's what he was at my office this morning, to officially resign, but our meeting was interrupted by Rivers' return, without Saint John. The two of them left to finish resolving things."

Caitlin hung up the phone and turned back to the kids. 'Why does anybody go out of town without telling me and leave me to babysit?' she questioned herself.

\A/

(4:30am)

Airwolf landed on the FIRM's helipad to drop off the ex-POW's. Surprisingly, he turned around and came face to face with Michael.

"Hawke," Michael warned, "you need to watch out for Cait and Dom and anyone else you plan on keeping around."

"What do you mean?"

"Six Vietnamese Vets have been reported missing since yesterday. I've been up here all night working on the case, but the only thing they seem to have in common is Vietnam, in your unit specifically."

\A/

String and Saint John returned to the cabin.

Caitlin greeted both with a hug. "You, Saint John, don't disappear like that, and you, Stringfellow Hawke, don't run off to some foreign country without some explanations. I was worried sick about both of you and didn't have a clue where to find you until Michael called telling me to keep the kids safe and lay low and that only made me more worried. So, anyone want to explain what happened or will I have to torture the information out of you?"

"Six guys from Nam have gone missing since yesterday and no one knows why or where," String explained, "but Michael thinks it has something to do with me."

\A/

"What do you mean stay in Italy?" Dom questioned.

"Things have been a little off here, and it would be best if you weren't over here since they're going after people I know," String explained.

"If people are after you, it sounds like you like all the more reason to come back. To give you some backup," Dom argued.

"Dom, stay. We can handle it. I just want to make sure everything is back to normal before you come back."

"So you've got whoever was after you handled?" he queried.

"Yeah," he lied. "Everything should go back to normal now. I just want to make sure we've solved everything."

"Alright," Dom relented, "but I am coming home in a week."

String hung up the phone. Honestly, he couldn't blame Dom for being worried. In his place, he probably wouldn't have given them the week; nevertheless, they had a problem to solve and only a little time to do it in.

\A/

It was late and dark, but even on silent nights the cabin wasn't this quiet. String took the Colt .45 from beneath his pillow and crept downstairs, clothed only in a pair of jeans.

A dark shadow danced across the far wall from the outside tree casting shadows through the window. No, it was somebody inside.

Carrying a bundle, the dark skinned man slipped out into the cool night. String followed.

The object, no person, he soon realized, was loaded into a dark colored helicopter perched on the dock next to the Jet Ranger. If it was a person, that size had to be Le. He, whoever 'he' was, wasn't going to steal his nephew.

String slipped up behind the swarthy man, about to bring a heavy fist down on him, when the man swerved out of the way. Turning back, he took a quick kick at the knees, sending String sprawling on the ground. String rolled out of the way to avoid the knife slicing through the air coming to meet him. String had just made it to his feet when the blade came for him again; he kicked, getting his leg cut in the process, but knocking the knife out of his attacker's hands. Abandoning the knife, he clutched at Hawke's throat. He struggled to relieve himself of the man's hold, but to no avail. Darkness threaten to overcome him, but he fought it with every fiber in his body. In a last ditch effort, he suddenly dropped all his weight to the ground, knocking the other off balance. He took in a deep breath then with a hard right hook knocked his attacker to the ground.

Saint John awoke and stepped outside onto the front porch. He could swear he had heard something, but it was to dark to see clearly.

A splash in the water confirmed his suspicions. He ran over to see what it was. On the way over to the water, he noticed a bloody knife and only a few steps away his brother's gun. What was going on? From the edge of the dock, he could see a steady stream of bubbles. Not about to jump in without knowing what was down there, he searched for more clues. He walked across the dock almost running into the black helicopter parked there. What was it doing here?

Back at the water's edge he heard another noise. The bubbles had ceased. Was that a good thing? The water remained still for agonizingly long minutes. Finally, String's head emerged from beneath the dark water gasping for breath. "Sinj, help me out," he called.

Saint John hauled his younger brother up out of the water. String obviously had been in a struggle. A blood stain covered the jean where the knife had cut through them, and he tightly held onto his wrist as he shook wet hair out of his eyes.

"Get Le," he panted. "He's in the back of the black chopper." String told him then started limping back to the cabin. Only a moment after he had come in, Saint John walked through the door carrying Le and set him down on the sofa.

"Is the other guy dead?"

"Yeah. Drowned, and he still almost took me with him."

Saint John turned a worried gaze down at Le.

"He'll be ok," String assured him. "He was tranquilized so he'd be quiet."

Saint John turned back to String again. "Thanks, I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes."

"It's nothing. You always used to pull me out of trouble, this time it was my turn."

Saint John saw how bad how badly his brother was limping, much more than the usual tired limp he'd acquired in the last nine months.Soon he caught notice of the source of the problem. His brother's denim pant leg had a knife cut dragging down the side of it, and from the sight of the blood seeping out, he had no doubt his pants weren't the only thing cut. "String, let's get you cleaned up while we wait for Le to come to.

"It's not that bad. It just looks worse because it's wet."

"Lake water- that's not really going to make it any better."

"I'm fine," String insisted.

"Fine. You stay here, and I'll bring the first aid kit to you."

Saint John returned a few minutes later with a warm wet rag and the first aid kit. Within ten minutes, he'd clean and bandaged String's leg and taken a look at his wrist, which proved to be only badly bruised.

Le was just starting to come to when they finished. Saint John handed him a cup of water which he gulped down greedily. "Is everything ok?" he asked.

"Yeah," both Hawke brothers answered in union.

"Then you might want to put Chance back to bed then. He's under the bed."

"Why is he under the bed?" String asked, and unmistakable mark of confusion flitted across his face.

"I hear someone in the cabin, and I could tell it wasn't one of you guys so I hid him under the bed, but before I could hide they dragged me off."

'Smart kid,' String caught himself thinking not for the first time. "I'll put Chance back to bed then we can all go back to sleep."


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

String was up early the next morning, unable to sleep after the previous night's events. He limped down the stairs to the kitchen and began fixing some fish and grits.

Caitlin was the next one awake. Stealing a glance beside her, she noticed String's absence. Pulling on a light robe, she trudged wearily down the stairs from the loft. She appreciatively smelled the delectable aromas from the breakfast being fixed. Coffee was among these. 'Coffee,' she thought blissfully, ' a cup of coffee sounded like heaven right now.' "You're up early," she commented. "Even for you."

"Couldn't sleep."

She painfully noticed the limp in his every step. For his limp to be that bad, he must be exhausted not to mention in a lot of pain. She watched as he started to set the table, carefully avoiding caring anything heavy in his left hand.

"You want some help?" she offered.

"Nah, I'm almost done," he replied as he handed her a cup of the strong brew she was craving.

She took it gratefully, but couldn't help but notice something was different. His movements were rigid and stiff, like a different kind of pain than usual though.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

She shook her head. "What happened? I know you weren't all gimped up like that last night."

"It's nothing," he insisted.

She thought about just letting it slide this time, but when walking to the counter to pour herself another cup of coffee, she caught sight of the first aid kit laying opened on the bar.

"If it's nothing what's this for?" she queried as she reached for it.

'Should've remember to put that up,' he mentally scolded himself. "Saint John insisted. I promise it's not that bad though."

"What happened?" she repeated her earlier question, her firm tone told that she wouldn't leave until she got an answer.

"We had a break in last night; I tried to stop the guy without shooting him and waking everyone else up, but you're the only one who didn't get woken up."

Saint John started stirring in the other room. The others were getting up and this conversation could wait until later, but the look in her eyes told him he wasn't going to get out without a very thorough explanation.

\A/

By an hour and a half later, all of them were up and ready to go. They all loaded into the Jet Ranger and set off for Knightsbridge.

Michael was waiting for them when they entered his office. "All I have is an educated guess," he admitted. " Some Vietnamese rebels who were trying to get revenge on the Americans involved in the Vietnam War, have been reported back in Nam, but our reports show all of them having fled the country."

"They're after us because of a war that ended fifteen years ago?"

"It sure looks that way. Right now there's not much we can do without some evidence though."

"Do you have any idea how many are in this group?" String asked.

"Originally only six. One was killed in a plane hijacking a year ago, so five."

"I think you can safely make it four."

"Why?" Michael question the last remark. Last time he checked six minus one was still five.

"We had an attempt at the cabin last night," he answered as he hobbled to the chair across from him. "If you want the body, I suggest you start looking near the dock."

"The dock? Why the dock?"

"Because I didn't feel up to pulling him out after he almost drown me, but the body will wash away so your search is getting harder by the minute."

Michael now fully understood why Hawke was even more determined than ever to get these guys. They tried to take Saint John away from him again and attacked the one place that was usually a safe haven for them.

"Just try to stay out of harm's way," Michael advised. "I'll let you know as soon as I find out something."

\A/

Dominic shifted nervously in his seat. Something in his gut told him that back home things weren't going as well as String had let on, but he had said he would give them another week. He looked at the calendar anxiously. Normally, he would enjoy the extra vacation time, but not with these problems back home in California. Maybe he had made the wrong decision to stay. The calendar told him he still had two more days before returning, but if time didn't start passing a little more quickly, he would be found on the next flight back to the states.

\A/

"Santini Air," the recording picked up, "we're out right now, but leave a message and we'll get back to you."

Michael slammed the phone down on the receiver. Where the hell were they? No answer at the cabin or the hangar, not even the radios in either of the Jet Rangers. There was only one other place he could think of…. He dismissed the idea as abruptly as it had come. Any of them could be qualified as stubborn, but not stupid. Oh why did it matter anymore? He'd already tried every other logical place.

Saint John reached for the buttons to connect the radio transmission.

'An answer,' he thought hopefully. That was more than he had been able to get all day.

"Hawke?"

"Well, one of them," Saint John answered.

"What happened to keeping a low profile?" Michael interrogated.

"Sorry," Saint John apologized, "none of us thought a cave in the middle of the desert was particularly high profile."

They were still in the Lair-that actually surprised him.

"We thought we would make sure Airwolf was ready for battle whenever she is needed."

Michael changed the subject back to his original purpose. Where they were and why wasn't all that important right now. "The earlier information has been checked out and confirmed, and we think that we have located the area where the others are being held."

"Ok," Saint John answered impatiently. "Where?"

"Not far from here, an old beach with a pier that has been condemned. If you'll hold on a minute I'll have Marella send all the information, as well as, exact coordinates to Airwolf's on board computer system."

"Now you're talking. We'll get out there and see what we can find."


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Airwolf ascended above the tall rocky chimney that was her home and shot through the sky. Michael was right, it wasn't far, and Airwolf ate up the distance effortlessly.

"We're approaching the target," Caitlin reported.

The thermal scan locked onto an old dilapidated shack, then the automatic aircraft identification began running.

"Hawke, there are five heat sources in that shack below and an aircraft approaching. It's only a Hughes 500, but it's armed with chain guns and Sidewinders."

"Let's get the people in the shack first if possible."

Caitlin studied the screen in front of her momentarily. "The Hughes is still pretty far out, if we hurry…"

String landed on the sand just outside the shack. Saint John was the first out. A single well placed kick caved in the fragile wooden door.

"Come on," he called.

String noticed an abandoned pickup about fifty feet away. "Get in the truck and get out of here."

"We can't," one of them answered. "They said we would only have a chance to survive if we followed orders exactly."

"If we get caught trying to leave death will be the only thing we have to look forward to," another joined. "I saw what they did to the guy who tried to escape."

If you stay you'll eventually get the same treatment," Saint John retorted. "We'll cover you, now get moving."

Caitlin called out from Airwolf. "They're only two miles out and closing."

String nodded in acknowledgment.

"If you don't want to run the risk of being hit by flying shrapnel, which I personally don't find fun, you best get out of here," he advised then loped back toward Airwolf.

"I've been a prisoner of war long enough to know, if I were you I'd take this opportunity and get out," Saint John added then went to follow his brother.

One by one, the hostages left the shack and made their way toward the rusty old pickup.

Machine gun fire clattered against the truck just in front of them. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," a husky voice sounded above the gunfire. "Now nice and slowly, I want you all to march yourselves back inside or you'll end up like your friend."

"You'd do that anyway," one of them shot back.

"I don't know where this sudden braver came from, but I don't like it," the Vietnamese man snarled, "now get back inside."

"Yeah, we're soldiers and soldiers fight," another slightly younger man added before slamming a kick into their Vietnamese captor, causing the gun to fall from his hands and land in the soft sand. Grabbing it, they hopped into the truck and started away. More gun fire had them all ducking, but they continued on.

"Saint John!" String shouted running back to his brother who now lay dazed on the ground.

Saint John brought himself back to reality. "I'll be alright," he assured his worried brother, "it's just a graze."

Nevertheless, String made sure Saint John made it back to the safety of Airwolf without acquiring anymore injuries. He pulled Saint John inside as the Hughes let loose a missile. Caitlin yanked the hatch door closed just before it impacted with the ground, a little too close for comfort.

"Come on, String, we've got to get off the ground or we'll be toast, make that burnt toast."

"I can't do it," he had allowed fear to enter his mind. "Maybe at one time, but not anymore." As much as he hated to admit it, it wasn't his game anymore.

"String," Caitlin pleaded, "please. I'm not trained for combat flying and Saint John's hurt. You have to."

He shook his head in defeat. "I can't-not anymore."

Saint John took a hand off his wounded arm and wiped the blood off. "Wish me luck." 'We're going to need it,' he silently added. Clutching the collective in one hand and the cyclic in the other, he took Airwolf up.

Shakily, the sleek back helicopter raised up, narrowly escaping the missiles that came hurtling toward them. Caitlin looked up to the front of the cockpit; she hoped Saint John could do it even though he didn't look like he could; all their lives depended on it.

More chain gun fire chattered along the metallic body until it reached its target.

With the tail rotor out, a controlled crash was all you could typically hope for, but in Airwolf, if necessary, you could temporarily avoid the problem by using the turbos. Saint John wasn't in any condition to be flying though, much less with the turbos, that is, if he could hang onto consciousness that long. There weren't anymore options.

String took a firm grip on the stick in front of him. "Turbos," he called.

Caitlin let out a sigh of relief as she hit the lever. " Bout time you got your head in the game."

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled. Uncertainly tried to sneak back into his mind, but he ruthlessly pushed it aside. If they were to have any chance he had to get back into the game.

They raced forward, out of range of the Hughes. Pulling up into a slow loop, they ended up behind the other helicopter. "Load a Sparrow."

Caitlin efficiently lowered the ADF pods and loaded the missile.

Streaking from beneath the light colored underbelly, the Sparrow found its target and imploded with the Hughes.

"Nothing else in the area," Caitlin reported. "I guess we're all set then."

"Yeah." He allowed the building tension in his shoulders to lessen. That hadn't been too hard, and the doctor's prognosis had included the Jet Ranger which he was now flying on a daily basis. Maybe there was still hope.

"Let's get Saint John to a doctor."

She knew he wouldn't be excited about the idea, but the wound needed to be cleaned anyway, and if it was as minor as he claimed they should be able to get out without too much problem.

\A/

Saint John groggily lifted his head from the pillows. He opened his eyes, only to snap them shut again. Bright florescent lights and neutral colored walls were not what he wanted to see right now. He opened them more slowly, allowing them to adjust to the light. String's blue eyes peered back down at him.

"I though you'd never wake up. I know they had you pretty well drugged for how minorly you were injured, but geesh."

Saint John looked around the room. "Where's Cait?" he asked expecting her to be lurking around somewhere.

"She stayed for a while, but when it started getting late she decided she should go and pick up Le and Chance."

"What time is it anyway?"

"Almost ten."

He'd been asleep for two or three hours he estimated. "So you got whatever your problem was solved?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Next time don't do that though; I don't think you can understand how much effort it took to hold on as long as I did, and once we actually started pulling a few G's I was out like a light."

String gave an apologetic half smile. "Sorry bout that. I know I'm normally not like that. I honestly don't know what was going on inside my head.

Saint John shrugged. "We all have times of self doubt; you just need to work on the time of yours better."

"Yeah," he promised, "I'll work on that.


End file.
